Twice The Terror
by SmilingOnTheInside
Summary: After Belarus is kicked out of a meeting, she picks up a newspaper left by her brother and finds a very interesting ad. She meets with her new "partner" to start an alliance. But what exactly is her new partner capable of? WARNING: May change genre later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm alive? HORY SHET. Anyhow, in case you were wondering, L&CW will update later on tonight if I can fix my server. (It's a miracle I could post this.) For now, you have NorBel, which is surprisingly easy to write. The more I write this couple, the more I love it. Hope you love it as much as I do, guys. This one is for Bex!:

* * *

I still remember that day very well. It had started fairly normal. We had one of those reunions that almost no one thought were important, but everyone went to in an attempt to prevent to kill the people they didn't like but couldn't visit at their homes.

England and France were fighting over something, Romania and Hungary were glaring at each other from across the table, Turkey was bragging about how he was "a thousand times" the man that Greece will ever be and China and Russia were gushing about something. How disgusting.

But that's not what's important right now. The important part is what happened afterwards.

Germany had kicked Russia and I out of the reunion for causing a "disturbance." Hmph. I don't believe I was disturbing anyone. Don't people have the right of free speech? I honestly don't understand why we were kicked out. I was simply stating the fact that China was a whore. Nothing "outrageous." Suddenly everyone started defending China, just because "he wasn't holding a knife to other people's throats." Lithuania defended me, but to be honest, he irritated me so much I hit him with a nearby country's textbook.

Unfortunately for me, it was Germany's.

I was promptly escorted out of the room along with my brother by Germany. He gave me a stern talk about what's "unhealthy" and "violent." Then he told me about how I had a huge dept to him or something. I don't really care enough to remember his rants.

After he went back in, I took the opportunity to talk with my brother. It was a very nice talk, even though all he did was cower in silence. We talked about matrimony and I told him about how many children I wanted. I then proposed marriage, but he was very against the matter.

Russia rejected my advances yet again, this time trying to swat me away with a newspaper. I snatched it from his hand and proceeded to kiss him, but he ran away crying. I have an interesting effect on him. I didn't feel like chasing after him that day, since I already installed a camera in his bedroom. I stood there for a while in complete silence, thinking of what I could do next. Then I looked at the newspaper. I usually never looked at newspapers besides Pravda, but a certain ad caught my eye.

"_IN SEARCH FOR A PARTNER TO STALK WITH."_

He didn't even attempt to mask his intentions, and I admired his bluntness. I held it closer to read it better.

"_I am in need of a partner; I do not care about your nationality, gender or sexual preference. I would like to keep the relationship strictly professional to allow us both to focus on the task at hand._

_-Norge" _

The more I re-read it, the more it sounded like he was looking for a sexual escort. In fact, if it weren't for the large bolded letters that said "STALK", I would have assumed it _was_ a sex ad. Still, he was paying, and I needed the money. He would pay me in something called "kroner", but it was later followed by a quick explanation on how to convert that to other ways of monetary exchange. At the bottom, it had his number and address.

I figured I might as well try it. I've been in need of money for a while, and this "Norge" guy knew what he was doing. It even had a list of all the proper stalking utensils.

I waited a few hours until the reunion was over and followed the instructions to the address. I didn't even bother to call; since my phone sank in the Atlantic after I borrowed a boat to follow my big brother on his visit to…I'm not sure. I believe I tied them to a tree somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.

I finally reached his home during the evening. I knocked with force, then stood there, ready to stab someone if they so deserved it.

I heard some footsteps and prepared for the worst.

To my surprise, I was greeted by a well-dressed man with a stoic expression across his face. I don't remember talking to him. Though I'm pretty sure I've seen him at reunions. Blonde, blue-eyed and serious with a tendency to stalk people... He reminded me of someone I knew, but I'm not sure who. Perhaps it was just one of those "déjà vu" feelings France sometimes mentions.

"Hello." He muttered, looking like he was about to smite me for some reason. It still felt so familiar.

"Hello." I answered, matching his tone.

"May I help you?" He asked, ready to shut the door.

"Yes, I am here for the ad on the paper. I believe you are Norge, correct?" I asked with a serious tone as I took out the piece of paper containing the ad.

He nodded and let me inside his house, but not before asking a meaningless question. "Why didn't you call first?"

"I don't own a phone." I answered quickly without getting into details of why I don't. Luckily, he didn't question anything more.

"Ah, I see. Come in and we'll discuss the wages." He explained as he brushed against my shoulder.

I'll be frank. He was quite attractive. He seemed to be wealthy too…And intelligent…I could tell from the stacks of books littering the living room. I saw a few covers and smiled internally. "LOVE POTIONS", "100 ADVANCED CURSES" and "HOW TO STALK A LOVED ONE FOR IDIOTS." That last one actually sounded interesting. Maybe later on he would lend it to me. I sat down near the stack of books and waited for him to tell me what he was planning.

He sat down in a large chair and stared at me without uttering a single word. I found myself staring at his every little detail. From his deep blue eyes to his…weird object that floats near his ear. I wasn't sure if it was hair or some kind of organism, but it was just floating there in suspended animation. How strange.

"I'm waiting." He said without a single trace of a human emotion. I raised an eyebrow, since I had no idea what exactly he was waiting for. "This is an interview, you didn't expect to get the job just because you came, did you?"

"I assumed no one else would take the offer." I answered without feeling. "What are you expecting?"

"I'm expecting someone to follow my brother with me. It's not much to ask for, really."

His answer caught my attention. "Your brother?" I had more in common with him that I thought.

"Iceland. I believe you know of him?" He asked. I could tell he was ready to tell me his brother's entire life story, and I didn't feel like hearing that.

"I've heard of him." I replied before he could say anything else.

Truthfully, although I did, I had never exchanged a single word with him. He just never interested me. I barely even remember his existence at times. Then again, not many people interest me aside from my brother.

"So do you accept?" He asked as he extended his hand.

I hesitated and backed away. "On one condition. If you agree to stalk _my_ brother with me."

"I don't even know who he is." He said as he leaned back in his couch and placed his hand on a book. I couldn't tell what the book was about from my angle, but I assumed it must have been important, as he held it close to him.

"Russia. I know you are aware of who he is." I said. I was ready to tell his entire life story as well, but he stopped me before I could.

He nodded in acceptance and flipped the book open. "I don't believe you told me your name."

"Belarus."

"Such a…pretty name." He replied. His deep stoic voice made it sound sarcastic, but it actually looked like he was being honest.

"Should I call you Norge, or is that just an alias?" I asked.

"My name is Norway. You can choose to call me either." Before I could reply to his statement, his phone started ringing extremely loudly, which seemed to annoy him, but he didn't answer it. It rang about 7 times before it went to voicemail.

My curiosity to find out who it was faded as soon as I heard the voice.

"YO NORGE. I FOUND YOUR NEW PHONE NUMBER. YOU MUST HAVE FORGOTTEN TO GIVE IT TO ME! AHAAHA. I'M CALLING TO LET YOU KNOW THAT ME AND PRUSSIA ARE GOING DRINKING! IF YOU WANNA COME, WE CAN PICK YOU UP AT 6! WE'RE GONNA GET LAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-"

His screaming was cut off when Norway suddenly threw a nearby book at it, most likely breaking it for good. He had a good arm to be able to break it so easily. Still, I wondered what the book he was holding was about. Now he held it closer than ever.

"The Dane…" I said in a low growl. Denmark just vexed me. Even more than Lithuania or Poland. He was far too overconfident and jolly.

"I've changed numbers multiple times, but he just keeps calling." He explained.

"I feel similarly of Lithuania." I started to say as I clutched my fists. "He doesn't call me, of course, but he keeps asking me to meet him at restaurants and such."

"Some people just do not understand when others aren't interested, do they?" He commented, still not losing his composure. I wondered how he did it. Even** I** had my limits.

I felt the need to change the subject from people that angered me to something else, so as to not pull out my knives just yet. "Tell me more about your brother."

"Iceland? He's a sweetheart. He acts like he dislikes me, but I'm sure he's just being bashful. I am his big brother, after all." He said with a tone that almost sounded playful. Almost.

"My brother acts like he's terrified of me. He's rejected my marriage proposal one hundred fifty-seven times already. I know he's just finding the right moment to say yes, of course." I commented. "Family is meant to be loved, no?"

He nodded slowly and agreed. "You keep count of the proposals?"

I nodded back and watched him open his book.

"I'm impressed." He said before starting to read the book he was holding. I still couldn't see what it was about, but it was surrounded by a strange purple aura. He must be similar to England then…

I spent the next few seconds trying to figure out what he was thinking. It was difficult; he didn't have expressions at all. At least with Germany I could always assume he was having emotional trauma, but Norway was too stoic for me to make a proper judgment. "How exactly do you plan on stalking them?"

"I have my ways." He chuckled as he held his book up. His sudden display of emotion didn't surprise me. I knew that book was important…


	2. Chapter 2

AU: I'm back from the dead. I brought some NorBela because I love you all. I truly, truly do. This part is done from Norway's perspective, and the next will be done with Belarus, so on, so on. It's a pattern. But I hope you enjoy this! I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the Earth so often. And typos. My God, typos are so glaring.

* * *

A partnership can be many things, and it could also lead to more…I read that long ago in a book. You can find a friend and an enemy; a simple conversation can change your entire perspective.

I'm not exactly sure what I found with Belarus.

She had been eyeing my book since she first arrived. I knew it was going to happen, and now the moment drew near. Faking casualness, she finally popped the question I was sure she so desperately wanted to hear the answer to.

"What exactly is that?" She said.

Feeling a bit mischievous, I simply shook it and pointed at it. "It's a book."

She looked at me a bit peeved, then pointed at the pages. "I mean what is _in_ the book."

"Spells." I replied, quickly passing the pages and ignoring her obvious desire to peer into it.

Clearly, her interest was piqued, because she seemed to be leaning forward in a desperate attempt to find out its content. "What kind?"

"Unfortunately, it doesn't contain any love potions, but it does contain century old techniques for things such as summons, curses…and _possession_." I looked at her darkly when I muttered the last word, scouting for any trace of fear or regret. There was none to speak of.

She leaned back in her seat and nodded. "Interesting." She said in a low tone.

"Very." I muttered before placing it next to me.

Her curiosity appeared to reach it's tipping point as she saw me put it back down. "What are you planning?" She asked.

"This is more of a backup plan. If all else fails, I'll use this." I replied, trying to find a reason why she lacked the human instinct of self-preservation when faced with dark matters such as magic.

She flipped her hair as if questioning my intelligence and looked at me vexed. "Why don't you just use it to begin with?"

It was a good question; I'll be frank about that. "I'd need someone else to perform the spells with me." Truthfully, there were a lot of reasons, but as I said on the ad, no need to get too attached.

"…And that's what you need me for…" She muttered.

"No, at least not yet. I don't think any of this shall be necessary unless he finds us out. Even then, he's always been one of those types of people who insult you but never do anything." I explained.

She nodded and I started to get even more curious. Was she naturally like that or was it because of outside intervention? It's a question that even she herself most likely did not have an answer to. I needed to test the waters a bit.

"I have a few strongly worded letters from him telling me to leave him alone." I mentioned casually. "Do you want to read them?"

"I'm not interested." She answered more annoyed than scared, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.

It was fascinating. She didn't fear me; she didn't seem to fear magic either. I never thought I'd meet someone with such a high degree of apathy. She reminds me of myself, actually.

"What were you planning on doing if I didn't show up?" She asked, trying to identify some point of weakness or fault in my composure. I almost felt bad, perhaps I should have told her it was hopeless and asked her to stop staring at my face like a vulture since she wasn't really going to find anything.

I shrugged and turned to my phone, which was shattered on the floor. "Well, I was going to call Romania and ask him to come along with me..." I started to say. "Then that happened. Well, let's just celebrate the fact that someone answered my ad."

I then saw the corners of her mouth twitch a bit. It was either a smile or a muscular condition, but at the time, I didn't feel like asking. "The two of you are friends?" She asked me. I started to fear that the conversation had taken a turn for the worst; it started to get more and more meaningless. Yet, I had to keep my composure and etiquette, if I just told her I hated small talk, it could ruin what could possibly be a very useful partnership.

"You can call us that." I answered before picking up the remnants of what used to be my phone.

"You're very serious compared to him." She commented. It was at that moment that I realized small talk is the worst thing humanity had ever invented. I would gladly spend eternity eating shards of broken glass if I knew it would guarantee I would never be locked in a situation in which someone looks me with a completely blank face and says_: "How's the weather we're having?"_

"He is quite eccentric, but he and England are fairly good at magic. We tend to talk and exchange spellbooks." I answered quickly, trying to pick up the last pieces of plastic from the floor in a frantic last-ditch attempt to get the "I don't wish to talk" message through. I ended up just grouping them in a neat-pile and leaving it alone, since I knew I could fix it later. Even Romania and England would have given up trying to receive an actual response at this point. That's probably the reason I end up with them so much, they're just used to me, and I'm used to them. That's the most people will get out of a friendship with me.

I wouldn't call them my best friends, but they're close enough. Of course, that doesn't mean they're perfect. England pays too much attention to the flashiness and Romania has an unhealthy obsession with blood and bringing back Vlad the Impaler from the dead.

One time, he accidentally resurrected a caveman and had a fight with England over the ethical implications of "naming it Ion and dressing him up as a butler to do our bidding." I usually side with England on those types of things, but on that occasion I sided with Romania just to see what England would do. I believe he threw a shoe at me and called me a "bloody no-good butter-licking Socialist traitor." Whatever _that_ is supposed to mean.

At the time I got a good chuckle out of it, but sometimes I do wonder what it means. Am I no good because I like butter, or because of the traitor part? Am I bloody because it's just his generic form of swearing and he wished to avoid using the F-word, or am I bloody because Romania dumped a bucket of goat blood on me that one time? Why doesn't he like eating butter? How does Socialism fit into all of this? What does any of this have to do with a butler?

But before I could keep contemplating the ramifications of being a "bloody no-good butter-licking Socialist traitor", I noticed she was staring fixedly at the floor.

"It must be nice to have people to share your interests." She whispered. If I wasn't paying attention, I probably would have confused her murmuring for a mouse. Her tone was empty, but not emotionless. Almost nostalgic.

"Don't you know anyone who shares yours?" I asked, truly curious about her answer. I wonder if she ever got called something ridiculous by England.

She raised her stare a bit and shook her head slowly. "Not personally." She said. Then I realized the irony of it all and chuckled. She looked like a porcelain doll, spoke like a monarch and had the personality of an empty can of soup.

"I don't believe we should be getting to know each other personally." She said in a low monotone, probably slighted. If I didn't know any better, I'd chalk her up as a mind reader.

With that, I left the subject alone. Doing so was probably a good idea, because I saw the edge of a knife peeking from the bottom of her dress. I knew that I could take her easily, but I honestly didn't feel like changing the wallpaper because she ruined it.

Then again, I don't believe I said anything to offend her personally. I wouldn't have been in the wrong if I did use my magic, would've I? Nothing too powerful of course; she's a lady. Or at least she looked like one. The way she was glaring at me, I started to wonder if she was some sort of demon sent here to drag me to hell by force.

"When do we start?" She said, eyeing the pile of plastic that was formerly known as a "phone."

"Tomorrow morning." I replied as I sat back in my seat and leaned back a little.

"Should I bring all the supplies? Or only a select few?" She asked in a cool monotone that I had gotten used to in record time. It could have been worse. Much, much worse. I could have been stuck with a loudmouth. Or Iceland's bird/mobster thing.

"Norge." She called out.

Once again, she interrupted my thoughts. She was like a psychological Denmark. While Denmark busted into my house at inappropriate times to go skiing, she seemed to get some sick pleasure out bursting into my train of thought and utterly destroying the rails. Think of it as someone banging a gong inside your brain, instantly erasing all traces of coherent thought and replacing them with questions you don't have the motivation to answer. Some questions just _should not exist._

"Yes?" I sighed.

She let out what could have been a giggle or a cough, something that I didn't really care enough to think about, before leaning forward and offering her hand.

"This is strictly business, understand?" I said sternly, taking a hold of her hand.

"I understand." She answered as shook my hand. She was too much like me, far too much…


	3. Chapter 3

AU: No, I don't know why this updated before L&CW. I blame the fact that first person narration comes more naturally to me. It does bum me out, though...BUT YOUR REVIEWS HAVE ALL BEEN SO NICE AND MY FEELS ARE ALL OVER MY KEYBOARD. HOW DO I TYPE WITH FEELS? But yeah, I love you guys, enjoy!

* * *

The day after he hired me wasn't the most interesting of days. We spent half an hour getting our supplies, and about a quarter getting up a tree that we could sit comfortably in. I had twigs in my dress, but I did not complain. Once I was well seated, I turned to Norway and asked him a fairly simple question. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

I could tell he was slightly annoyed by it as he gestured towards a young man (although I prefer to call him an old boy) that had dozed off in a couch. "At him."

"Because?" I asked, curious to see his reaction.

"So he doesn't get into trouble. I'm not paying you to ask questions." He answered bluntly, reacting the precise way I anticipated from him.

So I waited, waited. We were completely quiet for a long time.

Soon enough, I found that I had been sitting in the tree for half a day. Norway's brother was extremely boring; I couldn't really understand how Norway was so obsessed with him. All he did was move around the house, talk to his bird and then eat a snack every hour or two. I believe the most entertaining thing he did was accidentally trip on a chair, knocking it down and pulling the table along with him. He then paraded around the kitchen in search for some ice, but as it appeared, there was none so he settled for a frozen lamb leg. Norway and I both got a good chuckle out of it, but the rest of the morning was uneventful. If he weren't paying me, I had probably stormed out by the first hour.

The boy reminded me a bit of my sister, without the large…mammary glands. They even had the same haircut. If he wore a dreadful headband and taped some melons to his chest, they could easily pass as twins. Something about his questionable taste in haircuts gave me a bad feeling. You can call it intuition.

Suddenly, the Norwegian's voice rang like an alarm bell. "Don't you agree?"

The question caught me by surprise; because I wasn't even aware he made a comment. I was quiet for a while, trying to piece together an answer so I did not look like a fool, but then I realized that I was in a tree, peering into a two-story window along with a man who hired me to stalk his own brother and prevent him from getting into so-called "trouble." Foolishness had already taken a back-seat and allowed madness to do all the piloting.

"Could you repeat that?" I asked, acting as if I was simply doing my job so well I neglected listening to him.

"Isn't he the perfect little brother?" He said, his emotionless tone making it particularly unnerving.

I shrugged and turned over to him. "I suppose he's okay." I lied. Comparing him to my sister was barely scratching at the surface of the boy's sheer monotony. I've met some sleep-inducing people, but he was a category of his own. Paint drying was a welcome distraction.

"After this we're visiting my brother, right?" I asked quickly, trying to keep my mind entertained.

"Yes, yes…" He replied, not even paying attention to a single word I uttered.

I tried to follow his example, but his brother had yet to do something even mildly intellectually stimulating. He was just reading what looked to be a magazine. I couldn't see the title, but whatever it was, it was probably more interesting than watching him read it.

Moments turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, yet I could not see the end of the insufferable ordeal.

Suddenly, loud doom metal music started to play from Norway's phone.

"Your phone is ringing." I said in a monotone usually reserved for telemarketers. Normally, I wouldn't say a thing, but I felt as if when we were at his house his little "book" joke was just a way to "poke fun" at me.

"…That's Denmark." He sighed. "I'll just let it ring."

"…Interesting ringtone." I commented.

"I wanted something that stood out from all the other ringtones so I knew who it was." He told me, shedding some light on the situation.

"What is the song about?" I asked him.

"The coming of death and destruction to all on Earth." He replied.

"It described Denmark quite well, in that case." I answered, making him nod in agreement. We talked for a short while about the song, but we were quickly interrupted.

The phone rang a total of five times, and with each call Norway grew more and more annoyed.

"Why do you even have a ringtone for him? Why not block him after you get a new number?" I said.

"I don't have much of a choice. I have the other three's numbers, and they always give mine to him." He explained.

"I suppose one of those three doesn't like you very much." I commented.

"It's probably Sweden." He said before calmly writing down something in his notebook.

"Well, he has always been a suspicious man." I chuckled. I was certain it was Iceland trying to get Denmark to bother Norway for him. Norway looked over to me and I saw the corner of his mouth slowly twitch to a smile, probably thinking I thought the same. I'll admit I found myself smiling when I saw the sight. After about three seconds, I went back to my usual face.

"He's still bitter about the time I borrowed some butter." He told me. I could not tell if he was trying to be witty or completely serious.

"Borrowed?" I asked.

"Borrowed." He repeated to get the point across.

Now that I think about it, I never did ask what the butter was for. Perhaps it was one of those occasions where no news was good news. I'm better off not knowing the exact details of his chronic need to have a stick of butter around at all times. They were dark reasons, of that I was sure.

I thought to myself that the day could not get any worse.

I should have not thought that.

That day I saw true horror. Iceland started slowly removing his gloves, followed by his jacket. Before I knew it, he was walking around shirtless. Admittedly, I have not seen many men shirtless before. I've seen my brother, who is very strong, America, who is quite muscular, and once I saw Austria, who looked…flabby. I've seen my other brothers too. Even Lithuania, who I so strongly dislike, is at least barely acceptable, even by just a bit.

Yet, I'd gladly look at any of the previous for weeks if it meant I could erase _that particular image_ from my memory.

My eyes and mind couldn't even hope to comprehend the reason why he would do such a thing, not to mention comprehend why Norway and I couldn't help but continue watching the topless tirade. Norway seemed unfazed, blissfully unaware of the fact that my eyes were crying out for mercy.

Words cannot describe what I saw that day, nor do I wish to continue describing the pure absurdity of it all. If America were there, he'd say something along the lines of all of this being "totally whack." (Which would prompt me to hit him with the nearest blunt object.) Fortunately, he was not, I had Norway by my side, who was too preoccupied taking notes to notice the fact that staring at his brother for any second longer would surely cause my eyes to start dripping blood.

"My shift is over soon." I mentioned off-handedly, trying to give a lower profile to my suffering.

"I know." He muttered. "We're leaving soon."

He was just standing there, looking at himself in the mirror. He was flexing his imaginary biceps. So imaginary, in fact, that I don't think even he himself believed they were there. He had such a frail and pale-looking body. The poor boy had most likely never gone to war. He seemed so depressed, like a teenage girl who had just been told she'll never be like that "Beyonkira" person. That's probably why he proceeded to crash into the sofa to revel in sadness. How sad for him.

With that, I put down my binoculars and turned over to my partner. "I think he's done for the day."

"I suppose so." He answered, placing his binoculars in a bag and doing the same with the notes he was taking.

He offered his hand to help me down, but I opted against. There was something refreshing about him not insisting. At one time, Turkey insisted in opening a door for me and I ended up shutting the door in his face. Stubborn man.

We made our way down from the tree fairly quickly, and we made it to his house quickly as well. From there, I bid my goodbyes and he paid me. After I counted the money, I left for my own home.

The night was not kind; I had many nightmares about what I had seen that day. My sole comfort was that the following day we would watch_ my_ brother.


	4. Chapter 4

**AU:** After getting some inspiration from the song "Under the Thumb", I decided to post a new chapter. So yup. Thanks for all the kind reviews and comments; I take the time to read them all even if I don't reply. I'm not dead, just…not really sure how I want to write. The ideas are there, I just don't know how to put them on paper is all. Does that make sense? No matter, here it is:

* * *

It was an abnormally cold day the day after we visited my brother. After Belarus and I parted ways, I found myself wanting to taunt Iceland a bit more, but I knew it was her turn. I had to keep my half of the deal, after all. It made me almost miserable, since her brother didn't interest me in the slightest.

We needed to see the Russian man. Truthfully, I don't mind him. I don't fear him or feel any need to emulate his actions, but it's not like I wish him ill.

I mentally prepared myself for the moment and took a deep breath as I took a step down the path on which we agreed to meet. I didn't see her on the way, nor did I see her when I got there.

Instead, I found her already perched in a tree, clutching her binoculars as if they were her only remaining connection to life. Her neat and prim was dress flowing down covered in flower petals and dead leaves. She reminded me of a predatory owl, and her scowl and stare seemed to be sizing up her prey through a pair of binoculars. Some might say it foreshadowed her nature. Calmly, I walked up to the spot where I spotted her and tried to catch her attention. The autumn winds made my voice get easily carried off, but soon enough, she saw me from the very corner of her left eye.

"Hello." I said to start the conversation.

"Hello." She repeated in a tone that seemed far too similar to mine for my own taste.

"Have you been here for a long time?" I asked as I leaned on the tree.

Without even turning to meet my gaze, she lowered some rope. "You're late."

"You said we would meet at 7, exact." I replied.

"I expected you to be prompt." She stated. I almost expected her to throw something at me, but she was far too distracted to do so.

"I'm not late at all, you're just really early." I said in my defense. "How long have you been here?"

She ignored my question and simply sneered at my response. "I've always despised excuses." She answered quickly.

"And I despise small talk. Are we going to do our jobs or are we applying for eCupid?" I said in my usual monotone, adding a bit of snide sarcasm to it.

It seemed the comment angered her to a boiling point, but she just turned the other cheek and faced the window. "Just hurry and climb." She commanded in a frustrated tone. It was a stark contrast from the calm persona she had cultivated before me. I followed her instructions and found a branch that was both strong and comfortable enough to hold us both. The amount of trees that fit those categories are staggering.

We sat there in dead silence for a few hours. I entertained myself with passing thoughts; she entertained herself by watching him. The boredom was killing me to the point that I considered taking a short nap on her lap, but my instinct of self-preservation reminded me that that was where she hid her knives. So I continued counting clouds and fantasizing about times that passed long ago. Nostalgia and bad company seem to go hand in hand. Eventually, her voice broke the monotony and caught my attention.

It was low, almost unnoticeable comment, but I heard it loud and clear. "He seems to have a visitor."

"It better not be who I believe it is." She added, showing some sort of resentment or…_fear._

"Who do you believe it is?" I asked in confusion.

"_That_." She said in a dark tone as she pointed at a man with polished red clothing and a distinct long ponytail.

"Ah, China." I said with a sigh. I expected someone more threatening for some reason.

"I do not understand why he and my brother visit each other so often. Especially when he says he has 'no time' for _my_ visits."

"They simply seem to be old friends. I don't really see a reason to worry." I assured her before realizing she seemed to be scoffing at all my words. I turned my attention at what seemed to be movement at the door.

Curious, I asked: "Yet another?"

"My sister." She growled.

True enough, a smiling young woman came in through the door and embraced the tall Russian. She seemed ecstatic to be at the small reunion, even hugging China as well. I can't describe her well; I was distracted for most of the period. I remember her short blonde hair and humble clothing, but she had one distinguishing feature that separated her from the rest.

My male gaze instantly felt the need to ogle at her large…_assests ._ Large, wiggly and perky, all at the same time. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought it was Denmark's dream come true. I stopped when Belarus shot a sharp glare at me, but I couldn't tell if her anger was due to the fact that her sister was…more _gifted_ than her or because she simply looked that way at everyone she locked eyes with_._ I suspected the latter. Maybe a mix of both.

"I forgot you two were related." I apologized. Can you blame me? I've seen magnet poles with fewer contrasts. They were complete opposites in every sense of the word.

"I wish I could say the same." She sighed. She almost sounded sad, but most of the sentence still sounded serious.

"Is she always li-" I started to say before she interrupted me.

"Yes. Change the subject." She sneered.

I stared again. They were still jiggling up and down, bouncing in every direction and almost daring someone to go up to her and do unsavory things.

"I'm pretty sure that's unhealthy." I commented. "Well, at least she dresses modestly." I said to try and lessen the blow that Belarus' self-esteem had taken. I didn't really help much. There's a reason I turned down a psychiatry course many years ago. Maybe I am better at "compassion" and "empathy" in another universe, but surely that's not the case with my current one.

"I said, _change the subject_." She repeated sternly. Her cold glare combined with her dark grimace made me react with one of my own, and after a while she scoffed at me before continuing what she was doing previously.

I took that as a cue to only take notes from that moment on.

I started off writing relevant notes, such as the date and the small things happening below. It quickly devolved to me scribbling drawings of a dragon attacking a village of people. Be honest with yourself, you would have done the same.

Then, my phone rang. I recognized the ringtone immediately and sighed in relief. It wasn't Denmark's ringtone; it was Romania's, a loud disco duet between two Romanians. He picked it out himself, and even though it's different from what I usually listen to, it has grown on me.

"Romania is calling me." I muttered so she would excuse me.

Without a warning, she seized the phone from my hand and hurled it away without a care, striking a nearby mailman. The mailman toppled forwards and landed face-first into a large chocolate cake. I turned over to Belarus and asked why, only to hear faint muttering along the lines of: "it was being disruptive to the mission."

If I were to tell anyone else that I had lost two phones over the course of a week, they'd call me a careless destructive monster.

And although I _am_ a destructive monster, I am not a careless and aloof one. I do my best to keep all of my things in place and without a single dent in them.

Perhaps it was for the best. It was still eligible for warranty, and it just so happens "getting thrown away by a psychopathic madwoman for reasons best left unsaid" was in one of the clauses. I never thought I would use that; the scenario always seemed far too unlikely a possibility. I thought that on the bright side, at least I wouldn't get calls at 1AM in the morning anymore.

"They seem worried about the man." She said in a low murmur.

"I believe the cake was for them." I replied, making her roll her eyes. If it was so obvious, why did she feel the need to state it?

"Hmm…Use a spell." She said off-handedly. Her casualness bothered me, and I told myself I must have heard it wrong.

"What?" I asked in a shocked state.

"Use a spell." She repeated, sounding more unassailable than anything. I knew I had to somehow dodge the command without outright referring to the real reason I was against the idea.

"Why should I?" I asked while trying to force an offended tone of voice. "You're working for me, remember?"

"Think of it as a friendly favor." She offered. I noticed that in her eyes, any means justifies the cause. If only she had a better cause…

"I believed we were on strict professional terms; do you want to break your promise so quickly? Next you'll be begging me to make you a unicorn or something." I rambled, trying to steer the topic away. It was no use, she was too focused. Why can't people act like that when I [i]do [/i] want to discuss something?

"Don't moral people help those in need?" She asked commandingly.

"I always thought we were both amoral." I answered quickly without a second of thought or further deliberation.

Belarus narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were at least…neutral. Don't neutral people have a good moral compass?"

"Not really. I don't see why my morality is relevant. For all you know, I could be a stalker." I drawled in an attempt to milk some humor out of the situation.

"…We both are." She said.

Evidently, my sharp sense of irony was lost on her.

"You say it like it's a bad thing." I said with a sarcastic smirk. I think I accidentally scared her a bit with it, because she didn't even bother finishing her next sentence. That's what I get for going to a good dentist.

It started off along the lines of: "You just implied that it wa-" After that, she scrapped the sentence altogether in favor of a more snide response. "Since it's so obviously difficult, I guess I'll have to do it." She said in a demeaning tone accompanied by an angry side-glance.

Maybe she thought she could taunt me into it? I've had better staring contests with a mirror.

"Next time you're not allowed to get down from the tree." She growled, showing the semi-legendary anger I had yet to experience from her.

"I just wanted to help." I said coldly. On the inside, I felt like a little boy just dying to burst laughing afterwards. It's almost as if people are _inviting_ me to jumble their minds. "I don't see the big deal. It's their fault for ordering a cake over mail instead of actually baking one themselves." Truthfully, it got my attention. Why were they ordering cake at such an odd time? It's not like it was a holiday.

Of course she glared at me again. It was becoming her thing by this point. She might as well have had icepicks for eyes. I wanted to ask if she knew why they were there, but if I had asked any more questions, she would have probably attempted to pin me down to the floor and claw my skin off with her sharp nails.

"That look doesn't work on me." I said in a stern voice. To my surprise, she kept her stare and she only stopped when I gestured for her to walk beside me.

It was around that time that I realized that while I was cleverer, she was the more headstrong and stubborn of us two. (At least on the subject of her interests.) Whether this was good or not is a subject I'd rather leave to public opinion. Frankly, I couldn't care less about the verdict. It had been a while since I had a companion that was so amusing; I figured I might as well relish it and enjoy her defects.


End file.
